


Take Me Out of Hell and Into Your Arms

by comtessedebussy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Kink Meme, M/M, Rape/Non-con References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comtessedebussy/pseuds/comtessedebussy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel gets hit with a fuck-or-die spell. Dean has PTSD from his torture in Hell, sexual and otherwise. Angst, sex, and fluff ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Out of Hell and Into Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at the SPN kink meme, and possibly much fluffier than these two characters would ever be.
> 
> I haven't written much involving PTSD before, and most of what I know of the condition comes from reading other fan fiction, so if there are some glaring inaccuracies, please do let me know!

  
_Fire. Blood. Hands on his skin, cold hands. Pain. Then – a flash of white light._

Dean woke with a start, plunging up from Hell to the surface. He shook his head. His dreams of Hell were vivid, so very, very vivid, more vivid than any dreams he had ever had. Vivid, and yet vertiginous, vague, confusing, every single detail remembered with great precision and yet all of them jumbling together, overwhelming him with their quantity as well as their content.

He looked around. It was dead silent. Of course it was. No screams of the damned. No fires burning in the pitch blackness. No cold, demanding hands on his bare skin. No, he was still fully clothed, as he’s been when he went to bed.

Then there _was_ an actual flash of bright light. Dean started, on his feet in a second as his hand reached for Ruby’s knife. Not that that knife would do him any good in Hell, after all, he doubted demons could be killed _in Hell_ –

He shook his head. This wasn’t Hell. But that bright light –

_Castiel._

The angel appeared with the usual fiasco. Sparks and enough blinding lights for a Broadway show.

“You know, I got the idea the first time. You’re mighty and you can chuck me back in the pit, I get it. You can stop showing off now.”

Castiel didn’t look amused at Dean’s snark, which Dean supposed he should have expected.

“Dean – “ he began.

“Yeah, sorry. But come on, was this really necessary?”

“I – “ Castiel, God bless him, looked _contrite_ for once. Even slightly…. _embarrassed?_ The abashed Angel of the Lord disconcerted Dean a lot more than most of what he’d seen lately, which was a lot.

“Cas? You all right?”

Castiel shook his head.

“No? Well, not that it’s likely I could fix whatever could be wrong with an angel but – “

Castiel didn’t contradict him, which made Dean wary to begin with. Then there was that _look_ again, that embarrassed look.

“All right, spit it out,” he said, because it was clear Castiel wasn’t going to be working up the nerves to say it himself and Dean didn’t really feel like dancing around the issue.

“There was a witch,” Castiel began. “She cursed me.”

“A witch can curse an angel? I thought you guys were, like – “

“We are not omnipotent. She had magic far beyond what I’ve ever seen, very dark magic. She was likely working for Lilith and harnessing some kind of demonic power. I stopped her from breaking a seal, but she cursed me.”

“And, what’s the curse?”

“I must – “ Castiel broke off. He looked like he didn’t know how to explain what the problem was, which, with a generous heaping of embarrassment, made the truth harder to coax out of him than it was out of a number of reluctant witnesses Dean had dealt with recently.

“What?” Dean was starting to worry, really _worry._ Castiel had always had such infallibility about him that his current disconcertedness was, well, _disconcerting._ “It’s not deadly, is it?”

“It is. Unless – “ Castiel stopped.

Dean rubbed his eyes.

“For God’s sakes, Cas, _what is it?”_

Castiel looked like he was going to snap at Dean for “using the Lord’s name in vain,” then stopped.

“Unless I engage in…sexual intercourse…with a human.” He finished.

Dean kind of wished he was holding something so that he could drop it. It would be properly dramatic.

“ _What?_ I swear, Cas, if this is some kind of joke – “

“I am not joking, Dean.” Castiel looked beyond joking.

“Oh, well. Um.” He paused. He knew that he himself could probably manage this kind of problem, assuming there was a bar in town, but Castiel …Well, he was starting to see the problem.

“Wow, you really have no idea how to deal with this problem, do you, Cas?” He paused. _Shit._

“It has to be a human? You can’t just convince one of your angel friends?”

Castiel started looking, if it was possible, even _more_ embarrassed. “It must be a human, and besides, my angelic brethren would doubtless be utterly unhelpful.”

“Right.” He paused to consider the options. There were always hookers, but somehow he didn’t think that a desperate, spell-driven angel with no concept of human interaction (or human limits) was fair to throw onto an unsuspecting girl.

Castiel, evidently, thought the same thing.

“I have no wish to harm an unwilling human- “ he began, and Dean had to give it to the guy. All the other angels might be jerks, but Castiel, well, he has a respect for humanity that made Dean trust him more than he ever wanted to trust anyone besides Sam. He knew he had to save the angel, if just for that reason.

 “I guess that leaves us with one option, then,” he said with his best seductive wink.

Castiel tilted his head.

“You would – “

Dean nodded. “You’re not the worst-looking guy in the world,” he pointed out.

“You mean my vessel? I’m glad you find it satisfactory, but, Dean.” The last word he said softly. “I know what happened to you in Hell. All of it.” Castiel left the rest unspoken. It’s not like Dean needed reminding that when Alistair got bored with carving and slicing, he had methods that made Dean feel as if he was being taken apart from the inside out instead of being carved away piece by piece. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought of those cold fingers on him, the feeling of being broken open from the inside -

Castiel was looking at him as if he knew all too well exactly what Dean was remembering.

“I pulled you out of Hell, Dean. I do not wish to take you back there, even if that comes with… a price.”

Dean could’ve kissed him then. Well, he supposed that would happen eventually, but really, Castiel was so understanding it was almost like he was human.

 “Stop being an idiot. I’m not letting you die if I have something to say about it. Besides,” he added, in an uncharacteristically reasonable assertion. “I have to deal with it sooner or later.” The rest he left unspoken – the fact that he’d only slept with women since he got back from Hell, because the thought of intimacy with a man sent him back to that place he tried so hard not to think of again.

“And, well,” he added to fill the gaping silence.  “I’d kinda rather it were you than some dude I didn’t know,” he managed to say, determinedly looking anywhere but Castiel.   

Castiel looked at a loss for words again, but there was no mistaking the gratitude on his face. Dean approached Castiel, and it was like walking into a storm of electricity. Castiel was practically sizzling with energy, and Dean only then realized just how much Castiel was holding back, and how much it seemed to be costing him. He put his hand on the angel’s face and felt like he’d just been shocked with a bolt of lightning.

Castiel’s eyelashes fluttered at the touch of Dean’s hand, and it was so strange, watching them flutter so delicately while the entire angel felt like a walking powerhouse.  

“Cas, it’s okay.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise, Dean.”

Dean snorted. “That’ll be a first. I’m not _delicate,_ Cas.”

“No, but Hell has left its imprint on you. If we’re doing this, it’s so that you can get past your fears, not be traumatized further.” Castiel’s assertiveness was comfortingly familiar.

Dean nodded.

Castiel raised his hand to Dean’s shoulder before leaning in to kiss him.

For beings that were genderless, angels sure knew how to kiss. _God,_ Dean could lose himself in that kiss. Warm and comforting and gentle and demanding at the same time. They claimed Dean’s lips and worshipped them at the same time. He could feel the want and need and demand, but he could also feel something that was… _affection?_  

And his hands, too. His hands were so gentle, and so _warm._ Warmer than a human’s hands should be, and there was almost electricity sizzling out of them, although it was a pleasant kind of energy. Dean lost himself in the heat, in the warmth and caring of it, and barely noticed Castiel’s hands, tugging off his top layer of plaid and pulling off the T-shirt under it.

 “Can’t you just, I dunno, magic all the clothes away?” Dean asked, playing with Castiel’s tie.

“I can,” Castiel assented, before diving in for another kiss. This one was even more demanding than the last, and Dean pressed himself against Castiel’s body, Castiel’s warmth, trying to lose himself again in the comforting warmth. But then there was that feeling of vulnerability, back again as it was any time a man got too intimately close to him. His naked torso pressed against the fully clothed angel, he felt utterly exposed. He broke away, and Castiel removed his hands immediately. 

“Dean?” Castiel inquired, gently inquisitive but also, Dean realized, requesting permission.

“I just…well, you could at least take the damn coat off.”

“Ah.” Castiel seemed to understand. In a second, he was without jacket, suit, tie, shoes. He left the white button-down shirt on, probably to tempt Dean with that hint of throat just above the buttons. Before he was doing, Dean grabbed that shirt, pulling the angel in for another kiss. Castiel went willingly, letting Dean take the lead with the kiss, responding obediently, and then pushing back, claiming more and more of Dean until Dean had to pull away, breathless.

“So,” he asked, to mask the tension of the broken kiss, “isn’t it an abuse of heavenly power? Using your mojo for sex?”

“I think my Father would be understanding, given the circumstances.”

“Dude, just no. I don’t want to think about God or _your dad_ knowing about us having sex. That’s just, like, _creepy,_ dude.”

Castiel smiled, though Dean could tell that he was growing progressively frustrated and the smile looked more like a grimace than anything else. Dean was starting to pity the poor angel, and damn him and all his mental problems, Cas was in trouble and he was putting him through more misery by being incapable of dealing with his memories.

“Well, come on then,” he beckoned, adding another wink in an attempt to loosen the tension.

Castiel brought their lips together again, and this time his hands were on Dean’s torso, tracing the skin, one hand on the mark Cas had left on Dean’s shoulder. Dean, in his stead, forced himself to concentrate on the buttons on the angel’s shirt as he attempted not to be consumed by his kiss. Then Castiel’s lips moved to Dean’s jaw, planting gentle kisses on his skin, and Dean lost his entire train of thought.

He could feel the slight trace of stubble from Castiel’s kisses, but mostly he felt the gentle lips, and he let his eyes flutter closed as Castiel’s lips ghosted over his pulse and down to his neck.

There had, of course, been no kisses in Hell, not even of the rough, consuming kind. In Hell, there was only tearing apart and consuming. Nothing there ghosted over his skin as gently as Cas’ lips. Everything there had felt like it sank too deeply inside him, from knives to –

Castiel sucked on the curve of neck and shoulder and Dean let out something between a gasp and a moan. How good that felt, to lose control in order to let out a sound of pleasure than pain. He’d forgotten what that was like, to be consumed by something _good._ He clung to Cas, pressing himself against the angel, as if somehow they could meld into one that way, and then he’d be consumed by that thing that felt so good.

Pressing himself against the angel, though, he could feel even more tangibly his arousal, that electricity running through him that didn’t seem to go anywhere, but also his erection, pressing insistently against Dean. That feel of another man’s need, so insistent against him, caused him to recoil. It was a demand that felt like it wouldn’t take no for an answer, no matter how many times he screamed it. He tore himself away, instinctively, though that had never worked in Hell, but somehow it worked here, and that male body was no longer demanding his –

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice, calm as always, brought him back to the present. There were those blue eyes again, the ones that reminded him of a sky he had once thought he’d never see. He was contrite again, caringly inquisitive.

“Sorry. I just – “

“I know. Dean, you don’t have to – “

“Yeah, I do,” Dean interrupted him. “I do. Just” he looked like he was having a difficulty with words again. “Slowly,” he said through gritted teeth, as if that word was causing him agony.

Castiel nodded.

Dean gestured. “Bed?” He asked.

Castiel assented, and Dean braced himself to be magically transported. Instead, Castiel offered his hand, lead Dean over to the cheap motel bed as if he were leading his blushing bride to her wedding bed. He waited as Dean got rid of the last bit of his clothing – his jeans – and lay down.

“Well, come on then, before this gets utterly weird.”

Castiel divested himself of the rest of his clothing with a snap of the fingers, robbing Dean of the pleasure of watching the angel slowly reveal his graceful body. He took in Castiel’s – no, Jimmy’s, it was a vessel but _damn,_ Cas had chosen a fine one, and he couldn’t help thinking maybe there was some affinity, some resemblance, between vessel and angel. There had to be.

There were no other words for it. Castiel was _graceful._ A befit an angel, for weren’t those made of something called Grace?

Dean fidgeted. The distraction of the revelation of Castiel’s body over, he was back to being aroused and slightly cold all by himself on that bed. He didn’t like being cold.

Then Castiel was above him, settling over his body before bringing their lips together yet again. They pressed against each other, completely skin on skin this time.  He looked at Cas, and perhaps it was the lighting but he could swear the angel was glowing. He looked like he’d explode soon and Dean was starting to worry. What if they took too long?

 “Come on, Cas,” he urged.

He felt Castiel’s hand on his thigh, gently, a request. He spread his legs, allowing Cas to settle between them.

“Hey Cas. You do know how the mechanics of the thing work, right?”

“Yes, Dean. I’ve been watching humanity for millennia.”

“Yeah, well, uh…lube?”

Castiel nodded, and a second later there was a bottle in his hand. Dean didn’t bother asking where he’d magicked it away from. Cas opened the bottle meticulously, coating his fingers in lube before sliding a finger inside gently.

But as gentle as he was, Dean tensed. There was something _inside_ him, and the last time that had happen, Hell, the last hundred times that had happened….

“Dean,” Cas said gently. The angel’s hand was suddenly on his hip, rubbing gently calming circles into his skin, until Dean felt himself relax and melt into the mattress. Only then did Cas start moving his finger again, slowly, hand still caressing Dean’s skin in a gently rhythmic motion. When he added a second finger Dean barely tensed at all, though he could tell Castiel still caught the almost imperceptible motion. By the third finger Dean was remembering that familiar-yet-so-distant feeling of enjoying this, and he started moving, fucking himself on Cas’ fingers. “Come on, Cas,” he moaned, “I want you. Now.”

Finally, fucking _finally_ he felt Castiel press against him and slide in slowly, and he attempted to relax and let Cas in.

And then Cas began moving, and Dean clung tightly to the angel and closed his eyes. What started out as gentle thrusts sped up as the angel obviously reached the end of his patience. He was claiming Dean’s body, possessing it, invading it, and Dean clung to the angel for comfort and told himself he’d get through this. If he just held on to Cas, he’d be safe, he’d get through this.

Yet somehow it seemed that Cas could read every line of tension in his body; angel magic or just plain perceptiveness, somehow Cas could tell that Dean dug his hands into Castiel’s back in something other than passion. He slowed, his hand back to that spot on Dean’s hip, rubbing gentle circles, grounding him. The angel’s hand found its way to his cock (which, Dean realized, had been losing interest as he’d been too busy trying to get through this), gently bringing it to fullness again.

“Come on, Cas, don’t baby me,” he urged, forgetting his previous request for everything to go slowly. Castiel obliged thrusting in hard enough that Dean felt like he would split in half. But oh, he was hitting that sweet spot, and his hand was on Dean’s erection, insistent on Dean’s pleasure in a way that Dean hadn’t felt since –

He moaned, attempting to thrust himself into Castiel’s hand and onto his dick at the same time. “Cas, Cas, _Cas_ ,” he murmured.

Of course, it didn’t last long. Magic or just desperation, Cas felt like he exploded inside of Dean. Dean followed him shortly afterwards, succumbing to the insistent movements of Cas’ hand. He threw back his head and moaned, in pleasure and gratitude and relief.

He opened his eyes to see Cas staring down at him. Apparently angels had much more stamina than humans, because Cas didn’t look anywhere near worn out from what felt (at least from Dean’s side) like a mind-blwing orgasm.

“Thank you, Dean,” he said.

“Same to you, Cas.”

Cas smiled. “You saved my life, Dean. Truly, thank you.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Dean muttered, then added “No, really, don’t mention it.”

“As you wish,” Castiel acquiesced, pulling away from Dean.

“I believe that the proper action after intercourse among humans is what you call ‘cuddling,’” Castiel stated with a hint of questioning.

Dean snorted.

“Dude. You’re an angel. Warrior of the Lord and all. You guys _cuddle?”_

“If you promise not to mention it.”

“Deal. Get over here.”

They cuddled, actually cuddled, he was _cuddling_ with the angel who had threatened to throw him back into Hell. And it was nice. He drifted off to a blissful sleep.

Castiel wasn’t there when he woke up in the morning. Dean sat up, rubbing his eyes. Reality hit him full on as he remembered all of what had ensued last night. Of course. Castiel had probably flown off in embarrassment as soon as Dean fell asleep.

He sighed.

The next time Castiel showed up, it was to inform him and Sam that another three seals had fallen. Of course.

He shoved his issues to the back of his head and forced himself to concentrate as Castiel talked on about the next seal. More witches and demon summonings and fucking _witches._ All of this started with a goddamned witch.

He avoided Castiel’s eyes, but couldn’t help watching the elegant swaying of his trenchcoat, the graceful movements on the angel when he wasn’t looking at Dean.

Castiel turned, raising his eyes to Dean, and Dean looked away. No, of course he hadn’t been staring at the angel.

Sam’s eyes flicked from Dean to Castiel.

“Something up between the two of you?” Sam asked.

“No, Sam, nothing is ‘up’ between us,” Castiel answered calmly.

Dean avoided looking at him.

This went on for a few weeks. Sam, bless his soul, obviously thought Castiel didn’t know how human interactions worked, because he barely raised an eyebrow when Dean avoided looking at Cas.

It was when Ruby showed up that things went to Hell.

After the usual posturing from the angel and the demon and the insults thrown back and forth, Ruby asked “what, are you two having a lover’s tiff?”

Dead silence.

Sam looked from Cas to Dean to Ruby.

“What are you talking about?” he asked finally.

“Well, you know, word travels in demon circles. A witch cursed Cas, he got it on with Dean and, well, look at them now.”

More dead silence.

Dean shifted uncomfortably.

“Dean?” Sam asked.

“We agreed never to mention it,” Cas explained. “I believe Dean was embarrassed and would prefer to avoid further mention of the subject.”

“I’m not embarrassed!” Dean exploded. “You didn’t want me to mention it either! And besides, I’m not the one who ran off in the middle of the night!”

“I had duties to perform, Dean,” Castiel shot back.

“Yeah, right,” Dean retorted, but his words were lost to Sam’s expression, which was screaming  “you were cuddling afterwards?”

Ruby smirked. “Trouble in paradise?” She nodded at Sam. “I think we should leave these two lovebirds to sort out their misunderstandings.” Sam nodded and followed her a little too quickly.

“You bastards!” Dean yelled after them before being left alone with Cas. He avoided the angel’s eyes.

“Dean.”

“What do you expect me to say, Cas? You’re a goddamn angel! Do you expect me to broadcast yet another reason I deserve to go to Hell?”

“This is hardly something that would send you to Hell, Dean,” Castiel remarked.

“But…but… _you’re an angel,_ ” he pointed out, as if it explained everything. He waved his hands for additional emphasis.

“Yes. And though my angelic brethren would doubtless disapprove, it is not _forbidden,_ Dean, though I hardly think that’s your only concern.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest and shut it. What did Cas expect him to say? That he liked it way too much, which was rather embarrassing considering the entire thing had essentially been a favor to Cas? It’s not like the angel _wanted_ it in the first place…

“I’ve found myself longing for you since that night, Dean.”

Dean sputtered. “What? No, Cas, I don’t….God no.”

“I’m sorry you don’t seem to feel the same way.”

“No, Cas, that’s not what I meant..I just…” He sighed.

Castiel was staring at him with that head tilt of his, his blue eyes wide. 

“It was a little too good to be true, you know? Good things don’t happen to me, Cas. You’re too much of a good thing. And then you left, as if I was some hooker who fixed your problem and didn’t deserve a second glance, except that that’s just my luck. I always lose the good things I get.”

 “Dean,” Castiel said gently. He approached. “You’re not going to lose me. I promise.”

And then, oh miracle of miracles, he leaned in to kiss Dean. Dean froze, and even the touch of Castiel’s lips couldn’t make him move for those first few seconds. Then the shock slowly dissipated as he felt the warmth of those lips on his again. He clung to the angel’s trenchcoat like a drowning man.

“Good things do happen. I promise,” Castiel whispered.

“I just need one,” Dean murmured against Cas’ lips. 


End file.
